


Fight

by BadHidingSpot



Series: Bradburry 2016 [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 09:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7041925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadHidingSpot/pseuds/BadHidingSpot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cora hits back making Lydia go to boxing class with her.<br/>Sequel to Twisted</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight

“The most important thing,” Cora says tightening her pony tail as if it could get any tighter, “is to keep moving. It’s all about movement.”  
“Like a flow. In Yoga,” Lydia offers.  
Cora rolls her eyes, “Yes. Similar too but more active than yoga. In boxing you have to move move move.”  
“So I should not move?”  
“Hilarious. Stiles is rubbing off on you.”  
“He wishes.” Lydia gives a little smirk to let Cora know that Lydia is joking and that everything is nice and platonic between herself and Stiles. She needn’t have bothered, Cora doesn’t seem to care because the “start” buzzer goes off and Cora launches into several fast punches and kicks. Lydia doesn’t realize that she’s only standing there, looking on in awe, until Cora looks over and raises her voice above the music “Move!”  
Lydia snaps into action, working through the two types of punches and three types of kicks she’s only been shown four minutes ago. She’s getting into a rythym but before long realizes that her arms are tired and these gloves are too heavy and her hands are sweating in this gross way that she hates. She takes off the gloves and tries to punch without them but her knuckles protest and she has to pause to put the gloves back on. Easier said than done, Cora had helped her earlier but now Lydia struggles trying to get the left glove on while using a gloved right hand. This is impossible. How did Cora even do this?  
Before Lydia can makes a noise of frustration, rough yet delicate hands are fixing Lydia’s gloves back onto her hands. Lydia tries not to blush.  
“How long have we been doing this?”  
“Six minutes,” Cora answers smiling at Lydia humiliation. Lydia sneers.  
“Very funny. It must be close to a half hour by now.”  
“I’m serious, Lydia,” Cora is snickering now, “it’s only been six minutes.”  
“Well,” Lydia huffs, “not all of us are super powerful and stamina driven were wolves. Some of us need water breaks every three minutes. That’s how real boxers do it isn’t it? Who can move for this long without dying. I mean in an extreme situation.”  
“Anyone who does heavy cardio?”  
“Don’t mock me,” Lydia warns and Cora smiles again.  
“Let’s try something a little less intense. We’ll plank for thirty seconds. That’s like yoga.”  
“It’s too loud in here for yoga.”  
Cora gets on the ground and into plank position and Lydia finds herself doing the same without being asked. “Doesn’t true peace of mind mean you can do yoga anywhere? Even in the midst of battle?” Cora lifts her knees off the ground and flattens her back. Lydia imitates and it’s not so bad. At first. But soon her arms start to tremble and her muscles protest. Lydia tries to morph into Upward Facing Dog but Cora hisses at her like one might a misbehaving cat.  
“This is horrible,” Lydia protests.  
“I know,” Cora agrees grinning, “isn’t it great? I love this place.”  
“Can we please go back to punches?”  
“Just ten more seconds, I promise.”  
Lydia counts to ten at least twice before Cora comes out of the plank position. Lydia drops to the ground completely. She knows she’s red in the face and must look sweaty and hideous. She hates being any of those things and so hides her head behind the gloves she’s rented. Cora won’t stand for it and it must be some kind of revenge when Cora wraps her arms around Lydia’s waist and pulls her up to stand.  
“Let’s work on your kicks. You’ll like kicks. Then we can switch to jump rope for a while.”  
“Why would I like kicks?”  
“I do,” Cora offers. Lydia’s eyebrows express that this is not a suitable answer. Cora rolls her eyes. “Fine. Okay. I like them because I feel like a ballet dancer when I do them. They’re a lot more graceful and concentrated. Besides,” she positions herself in front of the punching bag, “a kick can be more powerful and unexpected in a fight.”  
“Is this your way of training me to fight?” Cora does not answer. She does a high round kick to the bag first on the left then the right and then turns to Lydia expectantly. Like with the punching, Lydia loses steam semi-quickly but she catches Cora smiling proudly at her and Lydia will do almost any task based on pride alone. After a few kicks, switching sides frequently, Cora even starts to shout encouragements and then orders, and then a kind mixture of the two.  
The buzzer goes off and Lydia doesn’t stop round-kicking until Cora grabs her, mid-kick, by the shin grinning. “See?” She says. “I knew you’d be great at this.”  
“I hate this,” Lydia says dropping her leg, “I am never doing this again.”  
“Too bad,” Cora doesn’t sound very disappointed, probably because her werewolf senses can tell her that Lydia had a good time. Not that Lydia is lying because she isn’t; she is never coming back here. But it does make her happy that Cora shared this with her. That she and Cora have had an intimate kind of exchange. “We didn’t get to jump rope,” Cora reminds her as she tosses Lydia a towel.  
“Too bad. I’m amazing at double dutch.”  
“I was double dutch champion in the fifth grade,” Cora brags. “We should compete some time.”  
“That sounds like an awful idea,” Lydia throws the towel back at her, “buy me a smoothie before I collapse.”  
Cora laughs and takes her hand, leading her to the juice bar.


End file.
